


Adorn

by IndianSummer13



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hot Dog loves Bughead too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianSummer13/pseuds/IndianSummer13
Summary: 'Cheryl Blossom doesnotwant to date Jughead Jones and she also doesn’t want tobeBetty Cooper. But it might be nice to have someone look at her the way they look at each other, she thinks.Or, the love Betty and Jughead have for each other is obvious - as told through the eyes of six members of the Riverdale community.





	Adorn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm overwhelmed by Bughead ideas right now and I haven't got the time to write them all into whatever these works are. Still, I'm going to try.

**_'Don't the waves pull the sand; don't the moon pull the tide baby?'  
_** _**'I'm yours'**_  
_(Miguel: Use Me)_

Archie sees them outside Betty’s house. She’s wearing Jughead’s jacket because it’s snowing lightly and her own coat doesn’t appear to have been adequate. Archie can tell from the way in which he’s walking that Jughead is cold. Freezing maybe. But Betty’s leaning into him and he’s got one hand wrapped around her waist so his fingers won’t be quite so numb from the biting air. 

Not a single muscle in his face betrays him. At first glance, his eyes look closed but Archie realises they’re not - it’s just the direction in which he’s looking: her. It’s always her. She is, for the most part, his sole focus. Archie doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look at another human being the way Jughead looks at Betty.

He turns away from the window and busies himself with straightening the items on his desk - he doesn’t want to spy on his best friends’ goodnight kiss. When he looks back out though, he doesn’t see Jughead’s hunched figure hurrying back in the direction of Riverdale’s South Side like he expects to. 

A minute or so later, the light of Betty’s bedroom flicks on and he sees them both there instead, Betty removing Jughead’s jacket, dusting the flakes of snow off and pressing a kiss to his lips before no doubt hanging it to dry. She pulls back and must say something because his lips twitch into a smile that she mirrors.

Her own coat joins his and Jughead swallows at the sliver of pale skin exposed when she leans over and her pastel sweater creeps up. Archie closes his blinds and leaves them to it.

He knows it could’ve been him in that bedroom with Betty. Those few months ago, if things had gone differently at the dance, if he hadn’t spent the summer with Miss Grundy, if Veronica hadn’t become a part of their lives. She loved him, she’d said. And she’d meant it. But Archie also knows she’d never have loved him the way she loves Jughead now. 

-

Pop Tate sees them most nights. He wonders (although he’d never ask) where these kids get enough spare money to be able to sit in his booths night after night nursing milkshakes with extra whipped cream.

Before Betty, Jughead was a creature of habit: a burger and fries, plus a cup of hot coffee _“and keep it coming, Pop”_. But now, he orders milkshakes in all different flavours, grins at his girl when she closes her eyes at the taste because _“it’s so delicious Juggie - you have to try it”_. And he does. Try it that is. Every single time she tells him to, even though he knows that the chocolate kind is so rich it’s hard to fit in the tv dinner waiting for him in his trailer; the strawberry kind does nothing for his dark, brooding image, and the vanilla one had never been his favourite but it reminds him so much of her now that ‘Vanilla milkshake’ is synonymous with ‘Betty Cooper’.

Pop hadn’t imagined Jughead as a boy who would display his affection so overtly; who’d wear the love of his girlfriend with such pride that it radiates from him. But yet he is and he does and the diner’s owner knows it’s because of the blonde who seems to be a constant reaffirming presence in his life. 

Sometimes, they’re joined by Archie and Veronica (who aren’t shy in regard to displaying affection either - only, it’s a different display, Pop notes) and sometimes the sheriff's son too. Both Jughead and Betty prefer it when it’s only them in the booth though, when they sit side-by-side, pressed up tightly together so there’s no space between them, and they can discuss whatever it is high school kids talk about. 

They steal kisses between fries. Betty rests her head on his shoulder while he types and even though his speed is hampered by the extra weight, Jughead would rather have her close. She likes to read his work aloud and gush over the words he uses. _“You paint such a vivid picture, Jug”_. He tries to hide his smile and his lips end up twitching until she lifts her head to watch his face and he ends up smiling anyway. 

There are nights too, when Pop sees them pressed even closer than usual: Jughead cradling Betty’s hands so immeasurably carefully; her soft eyes when there’s a lump in his throat so big he can’t talk for a while (and these are the nights they stay longer). The looks they wear at times like these are of concern. Of empathy. Of desperation to make whatever it is _better_. Pop always wonders, when he sees them like this, if they realise what they are for one another. Maybe they’re too young to understand the gravity of it all.

But then he sees Jughead choke out an _I love you_ and notices Betty shift so she can graze his neck with her nose in response, and he thinks maybe they do. 

-

Veronica sees them at the party. She’s already on the makeshift dance floor with Archie but something makes her look up and she sees Betty tighten her grip on Jughead’s hand in reassurance. He hates these things and she’s not a huge fan either, but being a River Vixen means showing up once in a while to drink warm beer from a red solo cup so he’s here to support her. 

She sees his body relax slightly and Betty presses a kiss against his cheek. He looks at her in her cheerleader’s uniform and Veronica can practically see him thinking aloud. He’s wondering how he managed to score the girl. He’s wondering when the bubble’s going to burst. He’s wondering how there was ever a time when he didn’t love her.

And then she sees her best friend turn to look at him too, all _velvet kiss_ lipstick and _radiance ombre_ blush and she sees the echo of his thoughts in Betty’s head. He kisses her and she stands on her tiptoes so she can reach properly.

Neither of them notice they’re blocking the doorway.

Veronica doesn’t drag Betty to dance. Kevin’s happy to join her, and Josie too, and even Reggie tears himself away from a collection of girls to show off the worm, so it’s not like she’s stuck for company. Besides, she can see Jughead inspecting all the cups before he pours her a drink and she decides trying to separate them would be pointless.

Betty would rather leave. Jughead knows this, and Veronica knows he knows, but what he also knows, is that this is Riverdale politics and they have to play their part. Once upon a time, he would’ve never even entertained the idea of attending one of Moose’s Friday night parties. 

But he’s with Betty now and he’ll play by the rules for her. 

They stay for an hour or so, camped out in the kitchen by the drinks table, and Veronica sees the conspiracy between them: their story to dish out when they try to leave and people shout the inevitable _“but you’ve only just got here!”_ above the music.

She doesn’t even bother to challenge it when they say their goodbyes to her and Archie because she’s buying noticing the way in which Betty’s resting against her boyfriend’s chest - tired but happy; eager to go but not too eager that she’ll walk more than a foot away from him.

She sees the grateful smile Jughead gives her when they finally make it out of the front door and she wonders if Archie will ever look at _her_ like that.

She hopes he will but knows too, that what her friends have is rare.

Their lips voice the _I love you_ she doesn’t hear, and Veronica turns her attention back to the party. 

-

Cheryl sees them when Betty arrives for (and departs from) River Vixens practice. She sees how Jughead looks at his girlfriend in her tiny shorts and shirt, like he’s torn between playing the respectful boyfriend and wanting to rip them off of her. She has to admire his restraint because, in that hall at least, he always chooses the former. 

He walks her there, despite outwardly hating pretty much everyone else in the room, and drops a kiss to her crown, closes his eyes as she hums at his touch, and then trails his fingertips down her arm until they’re finally separated.

Cheryl prefers to sigh dramatically when this happens. Betty doesn’t care though, just joins the stretching with a smile on her face she can’t wipe off, and proceeds to watch him all the way until he’s out of the room. 

He always waits for her at the end too, patiently with a book if Cheryl decides to punish her with extra pivots or a longer cool down, or if she’s already getting her things together, just tugging at the wave of dark hair poking out from that weird grey crown hat-thing he wears all of the time. Betty tells him _“Sorry, I’m ready now,”_ and Jughead just seals his lips over hers. He never wants her to be sorry.

“You wanna go to Pop’s?” he’ll ask as he laces his fingers through hers and she’ll tell him yes, but she needs to grab something from her locker or the Blue and Gold office first. He’ll look at her like she’s recited some sonnet by one of those poets he’s always quoting and she’ll dip her head, her cheeks pinkening at the way he whispers into her ear.

Cheryl Blossom does _not_ want to date Jughead Jones and she also doesn’t want to _be_ Betty Cooper. 

But it might be nice to have someone look at her the way they look at each other, she thinks.

\- 

FP sees them when Betty comes over to _study_ in the trailer. He’s not stupid: he’s been a teenager and he knows when they head to his son’s room and close the door that they’re not revising calculus. But he also knows the smile Jughead wears these days isn’t because he’s on the straight and narrow. 

It’s because he’s in love.

It’s the little things he notices. The way Betty will run a hand across his son’s back as she’s reaching for something on the counter. The way Jughead asks her to call her when she’s home, _“So I know you’re safe”_. How their feet automatically entwine when they share the couch to watch a movie (and how she always _always_ shuffles closer when it’s a Hitchcock one) The way he lets her play with his hair - twisting it round her finger so it curls in the wrong direction and sticks out an an odd angle when she’s left. Her casseroles, brought over in expensive glass dishes: _“I made a little too much so I thought you might eat it.”_

They all know she makes them specially.

FP sees the bills folded neatly and kept in Jughead’s top drawer. He doesn’t see the new sneakers or jacket or laptop that other kids would be saving for, but he does see his son come home with a bulky package one day - something wrapped in bubble wrap and then tied in brown paper.

“What you got there?” he asks.

“Betty’s birthday present,” is all Jughead says, and offers no further information.

He gathers though, when he hears the shocked gasp and then the _“Juggie, you….it’s beautiful...but I can’t…”_ from behind the closed bedroom door, followed by the _“I want you to have it. You wanted to be authentic; doesn’t get more authentic than writing your stories on this”_. Betty’s the new owner of a second-hand typewriter. 

It goes quiet for a while and then the distinctive sound of an old bed frame squeaking filters out from under the door. Alice Cooper would probably have a coronary, but FP slings his jacket over his shoulders and leaves them to it.

He hangs out at the White Wyrm for a couple hours and by the time he gets back, Betty’s wearing his son’s sweater with her jeans and looking at him like he hung the moon. He tries to remember Jughead’s mom ever looking at him like that.

He can’t.

-

Hot Dog sees them in that tiny trailer bedroom. He hadn’t ever imagined being relegated to the floor in such a carefree manner and yet here he is, lying on his back after being tossed from his usual resting place on Jughead’s bed. It’s not that his master is embarrassed about having a stuffed animal (after all, he’s met Betty several times, although never in quite such... _carnal_ circumstances) but more that the only thing he’s thinking about is getting Betty onto that mattress without anything poking her in the back.

From the position he’s landed in, Hot Dog can see Betty watching Jughead with a haze of desire cloaking her vision - those normally green eyes of hers narrowed and darker than usual. Their kisses after that point are frantic and he sees the figurative electricity; feels it too, in the air.

Items of clothing start to land near his paws: a sweater first - pastel blue and smelling like vanilla and flowers; a fleece-lined jacket second; a pair of jeans and then a plaid shirt which falls dangerously close to his eyes. It all happens very quickly and the carpet resembles a dot-to-dot drawing, but then all of a sudden, Jughead stops, staring at her in her underwear, even when she tugs on his hand to bring him down towards her.

“Juggie?” her voice is soft and her eyes change, lightening as she looks at him. 

“God Betts,” he says in an awed whisper, and Hot Dog already knows. “You’re perfect, you know.”

She _doesn’t_ know. And it’s not that Betty doesn’t believe him, but hearing him say so feels almost overwhelming. So she kisses him - lips gentle and unhurried - and tries to show him how much she loves him. There aren’t words to describe it really, but all Hot Dog can think when he sees them like this, is that it’s a statement - what they feel for each other.

Irrevocable. 

He sees Betty sew her fingers in with Jughead’s afterwards; sees him pull up the sheets and then fold them over her chest; sees her tuck herself into him and bury her face into the crook of his neck, inhale and then hum contentedly.

He sees Betty fall asleep and Jughead just watches her like he’s sure that at any minute, she might disappear from under his eyes. He only falls asleep himself when Betty hooks her leg over his and murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere,” like she can read his damn mind.

Hot Dog doesn’t see anything else. It’s bedtime after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from 'Adorn' by Miguel, because apparently, stealing from one of his songs wasn't enough.  
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
